


clean and pretty

by orphan_account



Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Emotional Infidelity, Gen, M/M, Possibly Unrequited Love, Post-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 07:14:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15625500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wonshik doesn't remember how long it's been. (It's been 88 days.) He doesn't remember how long this rift has grown between himself and Jaehwan. Wonshik's world has shifted to revolve around the collapsing star where Jaehwan used to be, sucked into its inescapable gravity amid constellations of deadlines and lovers with a glimmer of Jaehwan somewhere in their depths. And, every day, a number that Wonshik doesn't remember.(It's been 88 days.)





	clean and pretty

**Author's Note:**

> so it turns out that i'm not stepping on many toes at all here. it took me a sec to figure out how i wanted this to be narrated; i'll leave it to you to guess what i came up with. there are several right answers!

**(1)**

Hongbin isn't quite sure when Jaehwan picked up the "cutie main vocal" epithet, but he suspects—and doesn't hide his suspicion very far beneath the surface—that Wonshik was involved. Hongbin wouldn't care, because it focuses Wonshik's attention somewhere other than his unfortunate crush on Hongbin, except for how it makes Jaehwan at least doubly insufferable.

"Hyung," Hongbin laments, world-weary at so young an age. Hakyeon's face falls into his hand, and Hongbin resists the urge to snap at him that _touching your face is bad for your skin_. "Do you have to do that _every_ time we film? Do you _have_ to?"

Jaehwan spits something in his aegyo voice. Hongbin takes a deep, measured breath and tamps down his temper, places all flammables far away from it. He's on a short fuse, lately, burned down by incendiary remarks. 

_You're good-looking, but you can't sing_. _You're good looking. You can't sing_.

Wonshik coos over Jaehwan with his constant refrain of "ah, cute," and Hongbin sizes up Sanghyuk, who's sitting crosslegged in a corner of their cramped living room, and Taekwoon, who slouches sullenly on the sofa. Hakyeon rubs at his temples and mutters things about positivity. 

Hongbin sinks down next to Taekwoon and watches the scene from the protective embrace of Taekwoon's forbidding aura. Hongbin isn't scared of him. Hongbin's more often exasperated with him, but it's a state of being he's grown almost used to. Taekwoon spares him a quick, shifty glance.

"We want to do our best," Jaehwan is crooning into Hakyeon's phone camera. "We'll be sure to practice hard and rest well!" Wonshik hangs off of him like a gangly limpet. Clings to him like Jaehwan's gross, dried-up cereal to the bowl Hongbin washed this morning. Makes soothing, submissive noises, moves his gaze constantly back and forth between Jaehwan's lips and the camera.

It's sickening. 

"Maknae, come here," Hongbin orders, because he can't bear to look at Jaehwan or Wonshik any longer, and voluntarily summoning Hakyeon is not high on his to-do list. Sanghyuk unfurls his adolescent limbs and clambers over to the sofa, willing enough to participate in whatever scheme Hongbin's concocting. 

Joke's on Sanghyuk, though, because Hongbin just places him as a human barrier, blocking Jaehwan from Hongbin's line of sight. 

"God, can't we get through _one_ afternoon," Hakyeon sighs, and Hongbin almost manages to feel sorry for him around the bitterness that lives uninvited in his chest. He nudges Sanghyuk to the side and stands abruptly, taking the two short steps to Wonshik and Jaehwan.

Hongbin forcibly inserts himself between a still-monologuing Jaehwan and his adoring public, and yanks the phone from Jaehwan's hand with all his customary grace. "Goodbye," he purrs at the camera, screwing on his Group Visual Smile, and stops the recording. 

As Hongbin is busy shooting his most baleful glare at Wonshik, who's caught up in listening intently to whatever Jaehwan's chosen to opine now, he's taken off guard by Hakyeon. Hakyeon’s all wiry muscle and determination, and that's a problem, because Hongbin finds himself being _hugged,_ and Hakyeon hasn't even done him the courtesy of dinner and drinks. 

Quiet scoff from Taekwoon. Sanghyuk shifts awkwardly in place. Hongbin resigns himself to Hakyeon's head on his shoulder and his arms pinning Hongbin in place.

They haven't come far enough from where they began, Hongbin thinks, once he's free of Hakyeon's grasping talons. He looks at himself and at the five of them and sees them as they are in this moment. Jaehwan, proud of his talent, shocked at and overcompensating for his near-dismissal. Wonshik, trying with bashful humility to find his place between two roles, to transform himself into the group's best rapper and not its best dancer, because its best dancer is Hakyeon. 

Hakyeon, never truly in danger of leaving, but perpetually exhausted and hyperaware, perfectionistic. Hongbin looks at Hakyeon and sees a living, breathing reminder that their careers hinge on _cohering_.

Taekwoon, brimming with talent and utterly devoid of a winning personality. Sanghyuk, here on a promise and a whim, standing with them in the hope that he's trainable. And Hongbin, the only one without a stage name, cast for defined cheekbones and a sultry speaking voice.

What a group they make.  
  
***

**(2)**

"You could look like that," Jaehwan declares, turning his phone screen to Sanghyuk. Wonshik's sent another picture to the group chat, striking a sweaty pose before a wall of mirrors in the conditioning area of his gym. Sanghyuk shakes another handful—the last in the box—of dry cereal into his mouth and dangles a Cheeto over Jaehwan's head, pillowed in his lap. Jaehwan opens his mouth but makes no further effort to retrieve the wayward snack, so Sanghyuk drops it on his face.

"I could," he agrees mildly. "Or I could keep hanging out with you when no one else has time."

Jaehwan squints up at Sanghyuk against the fluorescent light of his dressing room. "You said you _wanted_ to come," he quibbles, and Sanghyuk tucks his chin into his neck so as to give Jaehwan the full force of his raised eyebrow.

Sanghyuk snags another Cheeto from the bag and Jaehwan's lips snatch it from his fingers with no small amount of obscene noise. "Wonshik asked me to go to the gym with him. _You_ said, and I quote, 'You can go to the gym any time, but my career in theater could flame out _tomorrow_.'" He pokes Jaehwan's chest with a stiff, judgmental finger. 

"It _could_ ," Jaehwan argues, and Sanghyuk sighs, long-suffering. "You're more fun than Wonshikkie anyway. He won't eat pizza. He just sits there and looks sad."  
  
"That's his boner face," Sanghyuk says sagely, watching Jaehwan scroll idly through the endless reel of Wonshik's gym selfies. 

"Help me rate it," Jaehwan demands, and Sanghyuk repeats his eyebrow-raising cycle. "Not his _boner face_. This." He waves his phone around vigorously, which Sanghyuk knows is meant to symbolize Wonshik's latest body-sculpting update. Jaehwan has made a hobby out of effusive, aegyo-speak compliments to Wonshik. Sanghyuk is willing to place money on the odds that this has made Wonshik's shirtless selfies flood the chat more frequently. 

(He _may_ , in fact, have already placed money on it, but that's between him, his God, and one Lee Hongbin.)

"I don't know," Sanghyuk demurs, tilting his head to focus on Wonshik's abs, the ever-more-chiseled lines of his chest. "Hongbin's the one who knows shit. Lighting and composition."

" _Doesn't...make me want...to do you_ ," Jaehwan mutters decisively as he begins to type a response.

"A bit direct, don't you think." Jaehwan opens his mouth and Sanghyuk stuffs it full of Cheetos.

Jaehwan makes a muffled noise that sounds like _You're right, Sanghyuk, because you're always right_ and hastily revises his statement to Wonshik. He's called to makeup mid-phrase, and Sanghyuk knocks him off the sofa into an unceremonious heap on the floor. 

"You're the meanest, Han Sanghyuk," Jaehwan simpers, taking his family-sized bag of Cheetos with him when he flounces off. Sanghyuk's left on the couch with an empty cereal box and an hour until the show, so he browses restaurants in the theater's vicinity. Jaehwan's easy after a good show, and Sanghyuk's already hungry in anticipation of how much food he'll be able to convince Jaehwan to buy. He owes Sanghyuk… _several_ meals.

A notification pops onscreen for their group chat, but it's just Hakyeon, telling Wonshik how nice his body is and not to overdo it. Taekwoon follows up with a picture of iced coffee and a pastry, which prompts Hakyeon to further remind Wonshik to eat well and prompts Sanghyuk to roll his eyes and switch back to food-finding. 

He doesn't see Jaehwan's evaluation until intermission, bafflingly timestamped sometime while Jaehwan was _performing._ He has to wade his way through the latest episode of Hakyeon's heavy-handed flirtation- _cum_ -fruit-extortion with Hongbin and Wonshik's repeated blushing emojis to read it. He immediately wishes he hadn't gone to the trouble, because Jaehwan's verbose message is more of a pachinko machine playing free-word association with Wonshik and dessert. Tedious aegyo-speak is his neutral state.

Sanghyuk makes certain to give Jaehwan his most omniscient scowl when he bounces back into the dressing room. Jaehwan's response when asked how he managed to send that text at _that_ time is, "I'm magic. Sanghyuk, let's go eat. I'm _starving_."

The previously half-full Cheeto bag is nowhere to be found. Sanghyuk pulls up the page of the pizza place he'd found most appealing, and Jaehwan leans his head on Sanghyuk's shoulder with a wistful, "Lead the way."

***

**(3)**

Wonshik is sitting in a cushy armchair, playing on his phone, and it's so, _so_ easy for Jimin to sneak up on him.

She leans suddenly over his shoulder. "For Jaehwannie, huh?" she asks, looking down at the screen, and Wonshik honest-to-God _screams,_ pitching sideways on the chair as Jimin cackles. His phone clatters to the floor and Jimin snatches it up, perching on the armrest as Wonshik fidgets in place. 

Wonshik's got his messages from Jaehwan pulled up, and the last two are simply pictures of Wonshik's dog in some kind of plaid getup and a screenshot of a designer website.

"It was Jaehwan's idea," Wonshik pouts, making grabby hands for his phone, which Jimin benevolently returns. "He thinks it's cute."

And Wonshik thinks _Jaehwan_ is cute, which Jimin knows because Jaehwan had brought Wonshik's dog to the studio while Jimin was recording and Wonshik had visibly swooned before properly introducing Jaehwan to Jimin. (Jimin had been introduced to Jaehwan several times already just by virtue of him being _on her show_ , the reminder which had sent Wonshik into stammering and blushing like he wasn't four years older and several times more famous than Jimin.)

"You know," Jimin says slyly as Wonshik zooms in on the price of Jaehwan's proposed outfit, "I _was_ worried you'd ask me out, but now I'm just worried you'll break yourself on Lee Jaehwan." She doesn't know him very well beyond their brief interactions on set and rumors of his wandering dick, but Wonshik seems _gone_ on him and completely unaware of that fact.

"What? No!" Wonshik stammers, sending a response to Jaehwan. "I just—Jimin-ssi, I respect you as an _artist_ and—"

"...And you apparently need those royalty checks to...buy Ken-oppa matching outfits with your dog?"

"It's _cute_ ," Wonshik insists, and Jimin pats his shoulder just to watch him blush.

"It's _weird_ , oppa," she corrects, her tone consoling, and this tall, theoretically-intimidating rapper of a group of very tall men wilts under her gaze. "Is red even his color?"

" _Every_ color is his color, that's why he's the visual," Wonshik explains patiently, and Jimin raises an eyebrow as Jaehwan's paragraph-long reply pops up on Wonshik's phone, riddled with heart emojis and squiggles. Jimin's about to argue that she's pretty sure that's not how _being the visual_ works, but she's all at once more occupied by Wonshik's soft smile at Jaehwan's repeated " _I love you"_ s.

***

**(4)**

It's the first time Heiran meets Lee Jaehwan—properly meets him—and it's the last. 

Wonshik is on leave from military service, with six months left in his mandatory enlistment. He'd made a deal with Heiran: Saturday would be devoted to his group, and Sunday would be devoted to Heiran, on the condition that she come with him to their group dinner.

"Babe, please," Wonshik had entreated her, "don't leave me alone with Hakyeon. He's so grabby." She'd giggled, and Wonshik had said _it's no laughing matter, it's my dignity on the line here_. After reminding him that he had no such thing, she'd dutifully agreed to tag along to his dinner.

Wonshik wouldn't have been alone with Hakyeon, because of the group, four members are present tonight: Wonshik himself, Hakyeon, Jung Taekwoon (introduced to Heiran as "not Park Hyoshin and will never be Park Hyoshin"), and Lee Jaehwan. Heiran likes Jaehwan, he's charming and good-looking enough, but something about the night sets her on edge, and she knocks back a couple of shots of soju before their entrees are out, trying to shake the feeling.

It's been two and a half years. Maybe Wonshik plans to propose. She keeps a cautious eye out for any undue sparkling in her food.

Hakyeon, the politest of them, asks after Heiran's job—she works as a financial advisor—and wellbeing, and her answer launches him into his latest embarrassing anecdote about the cooking class his friend had signed them up for. Somewhere between Hakyeon's arrival at the industrial kitchen and his nearly burning it down, which is a _wretchedly_ short time, the soju begins to kick in, and Heiran moves a bit closer to Wonshik, seeking his warmth and presence. 

"You're not usually this quiet," Wonshik observes, offering a shot to Jaehwan, who waves it away with an excuse about his vocal performance. 

"I'm making a good impression," Jaehwan preens, and Heiran stifles a laugh.

"I think you're years too late for that," she admits. "The first time I met Hongbinnie, he was in _drag_. After that, I've learned to expect anything, really."

Jaehwan looks at Wonshik and raises his eyebrows, clearly affronted. "You put Hongbin in a dress and you didn't invite _me_?" Wonshik fidgets in place and gives Heiran a sidelong glance of deep betrayal. "I'm so much _prettier_ than Hongbin! _And_ I'm nicer!" 

"That's _just_ not true," Taekwoon proclaims, punctuating it with a swirl of his own soju glass. "Lee Jaehwan, Jaehwannie, cute Jaehwannie. You'll never be prettier than Hongbin until you remember to shave your—"

" _Yah!_ "

Wonshik turns his head to mutter in Heiran's ear. " _That's_ how he usually is." 

The unsettled feeling ebbs away to nothing as the soju and conversation flows freely. Heiran basks in the easy comfort of their company, a casual observer, here to provide moral support in the form of batting Hakyeon's hands away and chastising him with a good-natured, "Yah, get your own." It only ever makes him come back stronger and sneakier, and Heiran's impaired mind works at full capacity to thwart him on behalf of her beloved boyfriend.

She's lost count of Hakyeon's attempts on Wonshik's virtue, and of the bottles on the table, when Taekwoon—at this point destined for a wicked hangover—catches sight of a small child. He collapses sideways onto Hakyeon as if his strings have been cut, wailing, " _Hakyeon_ , when are you going to give me a _nephew_. Hakyeon. Hakyeon, I want a _baby_."

A good portion of the color recedes from Hakyeon's face, and he sways alarmingly in place. "We have _dogs_ ," Hakyeon responds weakly. "We have _two_ dogs."

" _Baby_ ," Taekwoon sighs sadly, lifting yet another shot to his lips. Hakyeon looks about ready to put his head on the table and refuse to move, but, true to form, he merely rests his brow in his hand, closing his eyes and muttering about how he can't conceive a child when the floor is spinning.

Wonshik is immersed in the task of topping up shots, so Heiran turns to Jaehwan. "Why Hakyeon?"

Jaehwan waves a hand breezily. "You obviously haven't seen Hakyeon with his..." A theatrical, delicate shudder interrupts Jaehwan before he continues. " _Better half_." The sound of continued bickering slurs its way down the table, and Heiran squashes down a smile as she pays Wonshik a furtive glance. "They're so in love. You understand."

This latest is directed at Wonshik, whose attention has returned to Jaehwan. His hand on Heiran's thigh slides down and away, and it takes just a beat too long before he answers, "Of course we do." Self-assured, but not sincere. Heiran's blood runs cold and her heart picks up, that off-kilter feeling returning full force as the lines of Wonshik's body tense beside her.

He isn't looking at Heiran as she runs her hands through her hair, tugging it over her shoulder, tossing it back, restless with her sudden need to be _not here_. Wonshik is looking at Jaehwan, and she knows, all at once, that Wonshik understands.

Heiran hastily excuses herself from the table, heedless of Wonshik's worried eyes on her. She fumbles her phone as she calls a taxi, and bands her arms around her waist as she climbs the stairs to her apartment. She locks the bolt and sinks to the floor, back against the closed door, her face buried in her knees. Time passes, and Heiran's shock gives way to anger.

She fills a single cardboard box with all of Wonshik's belongings. He's left almost no trace of himself—a toothbrush, a change of clothing, a notebook, a coffee mug. The sum total of two years of devotion. She'd thought it was part and parcel of dating an idol; Wonshik has never mentioned moving in, marrying, _permanence._

She knows now with dreadful certainty that it's part and parcel of loving Kim Wonshik.

Heiran's heart rends in two, and she wonders how Wonshik has lived like this, his own heart split into pieces, never in one place. It's like all broken things; it won't ever heal quite right.

Heiran stands in the middle of her kitchen with a bottle of wine in one hand and cries.

It's hours later that she hears a knock on her apartment door. Her tears have dried up, abandoning her when she thinks they're most fitting. She splashes tap water on her face and pulls her hair into a rough ponytail, unlocking the bolt and yanking the door open.

"Oh, hi, there...again," Lee Jaehwan says, hefting Wonshik's arm around his shoulder. "This was the address he gave. I thought it was weird, since he lives in the dorm? Whatever." Heiran blinks blankly at him. "Wonshik's _really_ muscle-y and I don't work out so—can I just—"

She stands to the side and watches as Jaehwan deposits Wonshik's drunken form on her couch.Wonshik grabs Jaehwan's hand and mutters something that makes Jaehwan's posture arch forward in a concerned curve. 

"He wants me to make sure you're okay," Jaehwan blurts on his way out, as Heiran prepares to shut the door behind him. "You're okay, right?"

Heiran forces a brittle smile to her lips. "Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" 

Jaehwan gives her a jerky little thumbs-up as he walks backward down the hallway. She wonders if God will forgive her for hoping he trips.

Heiran leaves the apartment for a friend’s before Wonshik wakes. She’s placed the little box of his things next to the sofa, topped with a note reading, _I understand._

***

_"I love you," Wonshik confesses in the low light of a hotel room._

_"I know," Jaehwan replies simply._

_"I'm in love with you."_

_"I know that, too."_

_"Say something else," Wonshik begs._

_"I need to think," Jaehwan insists. "I can't_ think _with you around."_

_It's simple when they're fucking, and so they do, for the second time. Jaehwan lets out all the scattered sentiment he can't say to Wonshik in a gorgeous cacophony of skin on skin._

***

**(5)**

Wonshik hasn't decided, yet, where his heart has broken the most.

Hongbin pays his share of the rent and bills, stays diligently uninvolved, and sometimes Wonshik hears him talking to Hakyeon, their low tones of mutual concern as Wonshik _misses_. His lover—Jinyoung, he has a name, a consistent presence in Wonshik’s life—rolls over, presses the warm weight of his body to Wonshik's back, and Wonshik feels alone.

Distance. Physical painfully permuted into psychological. Jaehwan is in Taipei one day and Tokyo the next, throwing himself at every career opportunity that will love him back. Wonshik is in Seoul, up against deadlines for track submissions, but it's the mental distance that's fresh. He rolls over to bury his face in Jinyoung's neck, breathing in the scent of sweat and skin.

Wonshik doesn't remember how long it's been. (It's been 88 days.) He doesn't remember how long this rift has grown between himself and Jaehwan, even though, from the outside, nothing has changed. When something momentous happens, the world shifts around it, for better or worse. Wonshik's world has shifted to revolve around the collapsing star where Jaehwan used to be, sucked into its inescapable gravity amid constellations of deadlines and lovers with a glimmer of Jaehwan somewhere in their depths. And, every day, a number that Wonshik doesn't remember.

(It's been 88 days.)

Jinyoung mumbles in sleepy discontent when Wonshik's alarm goes off, and Wonshik nudges him gently awake with an elbow. "I know, 'm going," Jinyoung grumbles, and Wonshik goes through the motions of a languid kiss, good morning and goodbye, promises to text Jinyoung once he's finished work so they can get coffee. 

Jinyoung is polite, well-spoken, conscious of Wonshik's personal space. Conscious of _Hongbin's_ , even, studiously keeping away from their shared apartment. The fault is not in Jinyoung, but in Wonshik, because he fucks Jinyoung from behind just to see the familiar taper of thin waist to a generous ass.

He asks Wonshik, four months in, where he thinks the relationship is going. Wonshik, up to his eyes in paperwork annotated by one of Jellyfish’s legal staff, shakes his head and confesses _nowhere_. Jinyoung says _okay_ , and leaves as politely as he came, sweeping out the door with every reminder that he was here.

Wonshik fucks Jaehyung because he strikes Jaehwan's balance of awkward beauty, and leaves because he's too in _awe_ of Wonshik. The first time Wonshik sinks down on his cock, Jaehyung is _reverent_ , possessing none of Jaehwan's pushy entitlement. He doesn't grab Wonshik's hips and force him down, doesn't whine petulantly that Wonshik is _too slow_ , doesn't drag him into openmouthed kisses as an excuse to bowl him over and come up on top.

Jaehyung lasts a bit longer than Jinyoung. In the end, Wonshik has what he's always had: himself and his work ethic and Cha Hakyeon, bustling into his studio with takeout noodles and demanding that Wonshik eat.

Wonshik fucks Jinhwan because he _does_ have Jaehwan's sense of entitlement, every trying centimeter of it, and it's that very sense of entitlement that Wonshik hears in Jinhwan’s raised voice as he stirs awake one lazy Sunday, a bit past three months in. 

"—course I'm still here," Jinhwan is arguing, and Wonshik hears a cabinet shut firmly. "It's not even noon yet."

"Wonshik and I have an _agreement_ ," Hongbin's exasperated tone responds. "You don't live here, Jinyoung- _ah_ , you don't even pay _rent_."

"Who the _fuck_ is Jinyoung—"

"Kim Wonshik!" Hongbin yells. "Haul your ass out of bed right now! We are having a civilized roommate meeting!"

Wonshik obeys, foreboding weighing heavy in his stomach as he untangles himself from his sheets. He traipses out of the bedroom wearing only one of said sheets, which Hongbin summarily yanks away from him. 

"What is this twink's name," Hongbin asks, blunt, folding his arms across his chest and giving Wonshik a scathing head-to-toe glance. 

"My _name_ is—"

"You can find your clothes and leave," Hongbin interrupts, "unless you plan on writing me a check." 

Jinhwan looks to Wonshik for support, but Wonshik shakes his head tersely. Jinhwan dresses under Hongbin's censorious eye and saunters out the door with a parting, "Fuck you, too," to Wonshik.

Once Jinhwan is gone, Hongbin rounds on Wonshik, who's still standing naked in their living room. "I know we agreed," Wonshik tries, but Hongbin sighs, shifting his weight to lean against the kitchenette sink. 

"Wonshik, it's not about _Jinyoung—"_

"Jinhwan—"

" _Any of them!"_ Hongbin yells. He takes a deep breath as Wonshik flinches. "Wonshik, it's not about that."

Wonshik draws himself up to his full height, and Hongbin's gaze fixes determinedly somewhere above Wonshik's right shoulder. "It _seems_ like it's very much about that," he shoots back, and Hongbin makes a noise that sounds like _argh_ and grasps futilely at the air in front of him.

" _Wonshik_ ," Hongbin explains with an air of long-suffering patience. "It's not about Flavor of the Week failing to leave by ten, _even if we agreed_. I don't _care_. Big picture, dumbass." When Wonshik merely raises an eyebrow, Hongbin continues. "Wonshik, you know and I know that you don't _want_ to be fucking your way through Seoul's entire population of cute butts."

Sinking feeling in Wonshik's chest. He mirrors Hongbin's posture, crossing his arms across his chest. "What else am I supposed to want, then? Since you're so knowledgeable." He hopes the scowl he pulls comes off as more _righteous anger_ than _childish pout_.

"Wonshik, _please,"_ Hongbin says acerbically. "You've been rock-hard for Jaehwan-hyung long enough that you should seek medical attention."

Wonshik's immediate reflex—denial—spills forth in a heated torrent from his lips. Hongbin looks pityingly at him ( _you poor, sad motherfucker)_ , and Wonshik yells louder, until Hongbin's throwing his hands up, stomping into Wonshik's room and hurling Wonshik's favorite sweatpants at him. 

"Kim Wonshik," Hongbin orders, "you're so far beyond the fucks I have to spare right now. Put on some damn clothes and go talk to Hakyeon. I love you—you hear that, you dumb shit, I _love you—_ and it's fucking me up to see you fucking... _stagnate_ like this." 

Wonshik's anger falters as he processes Hongbin's words, half-into a tank top. "Go talk to Hakyeon, write a sad song, and just..." Wonshik looks up to see Hongbin's hand fisted in his own hair. "Figure that shit out, Wonshik. Jaehwan's...Jaehwan, but he's one of _us._ I don't care if Jaehwan leaves by ten."

Hongbin stomps off to his own bedroom and slams the door, and after a moment, Wonshik hears him making rueful apologies to his gaming team. Wonshik's left standing there, now clothed, in their living room, with a peculiar, hopeful feeling and the sneaking suspicion that Hongbin's been spending far too much time with Wongeun and Hakyeon.

Hakyeon is too clingy and he thinks Wonshik’s ass is communal property, but Wonshik has yet to find a problem Hakyeon can’t solve. On the roster of Wonshik’s mistakes, falling in love is—

_Not a mistake_ , a voice says in his mind, sounding ominously like Cha Hakyeon himself. In the end, he’s placed the same unshakeable faith in Hakyeon as Hongbin has, and he trudges out the door and accepts it.

***

**(6)**

When Jaehwan answers his doorbell's insistent ringing, he's prepared for it to be anyone but Wonshik.

It's Wonshik, because Jaehwan's constructed every slapdash barrier he can between them, but Wonshik has surmounted them all with the same earnestness he does everything. Here he is, even though Jaehwan hasn't _done_ anything—hasn't given Wonshik anything past the bad jokes and whining he directs at all the members—in—

Jaehwan's lost track of time, scooped up in a whirlwind of performances and one-night stands, held there by the upward motion and centripetal force of his ever-quickening career. He's had no time to _consider_ , no inclination to hurl himself toward the ground and think about what he's done. 

Here Wonshik is, awkwardly brandishing three different cakes and stammering about how Hakyeon said—Wonshik can just go—he's sorry—

"You brought me dessert," Jaehwan giggles, _giggles_ , and, "Stop trying to do sentences and just fucking come in, Kim Ravi."

Wonshik nearly trips over the threshold of Jaehwan's temporary apartment, and Jaehwan grabs the nearest cake carton on pure reflex, because his life is a wreck but his priorities are not. It's an appetizing deep-chocolate color, with kiwi and strawberry slices on top, and Jaehwan blinks down at it and starts... _realizing_.

It's three in the morning, and Wonshik is in Taipei with one cake for each offensively early hour. Jaehwan can acknowledge his commitment to the bit, but not his intent—not without a copious helping of this delicious bribery.

"I'm _aware_ I'm being catered to," Jaehwan says thickly around a mouthful of fondant, a few minutes later. "Literally." He swallows and says, "I have call at seven, but you—"

Wonshik opens his mouth, undoubtedly to say again _I can go_ , and Jaehwan's heart seizes. He snatches Wonshik's hand up from the plate where he's been eating his way through cake toppings, places chocolate-sticky kisses across Wonshik's fingertips. Wonshik murmurs, “Ah, cute," and wipes the chocolate from the corners of Jaehwan's mouth. 

"Don't go," Jaehwan asks. "I think—I think we fucked up, Wonshikkie, but just—"

The way they kiss is the same, carnal and hungry and electric, messy like the feelings between them. Wonshik's lips taste like strawberries and kiwi and he makes these low, shuddery noises that Jaehwan licks out of his mouth, dragging Wonshik in to press against him, breathing hard as they pull apart, brows resting together.

"I'm here because I want to be here," Wonshik confesses quietly. "I don't want to go."

Jaehwan has been so _careful_ not to promise Wonshik what Jaehwan isn't willing to give. He's beaten back his innate impulse to do _anything_ for more of this heady attention, the way Wonshik looks at Jaehwan like maybe they're stars, but Jaehwan hung them in heaven—this attention that makes Jaehwan _need_ to please—

"I miss you," Jaehwan whines, and means _I miss this_ , but Wonshik and _this_ are indistinguishable, especially when he's kissing Jaehwan like that, like they need it to breathe, and Jaehwan sends up a silent apology to his makeup artist, because he's ready to let himself be wrecked by Wonshik’s lips. He whimpers and whines into Wonshik's kisses, but in the end it's Jaehwan pushing Wonshik against the kitchen counter, Jaehwan who's smearing chocolate icing down the lines of Wonshik's thighs, Jaehwan who sucks Wonshik's cock into his mouth. Wonshik is gentle hands and raspy-voiced praise, and Jaehwan can't help but listen to him, basking in every reverent word, aching jaw and sore throat drowned out by the way Wonshik moans his name.

Jaehwan eats cake and makes out with Wonshik and showers and makes out with Wonshik, and he feels good all over. Wonshik gives him lazy kisses under the shower spray and rubs the tension from Jaehwan's muscles. They exchange idle conversation about Hongbin's latest movie and Hakyeon's pet idol group, until they veer too close to the cliffs of something serious and Jaehwan bites his lip and bats his eyes and Wonshik's weak knees hit the tile. He holds Jaehwan in place and rims Jaehwan until he's shaking, blissed-out and pliant and too turned on to think past _more_ and _Wonshik_.

Wonshik accompanies Jaehwan backstage at his show, eats their catered food, and watches both performances raptly from a tiered balcony. By the time they leave the theater for the night, it's dark and empty, quiet except for the echo of Wonshik's moans as Jaehwan bends him over a dressing room vanity and fucks him within an inch of his life, studying the exact angle at which Wonshik's brow creases in pleasure as he leaves steamy handprints all over Jaehwan's makeup mirror.

He's already planning to wake Wonshik up with a blowjob and ride his dick tomorrow morning as they take a taxi back to Jaehwan's apartment. Jaehwan's fantasy comes to an abrupt halt, though, when Wonshik picks up his duffel bag and starts searching for his clothing from the plane. 

"You're leaving?" Jaehwan pouts, and Wonshik nods, his jaw tight. "You can't leave."

Wonshik sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It's not fair of me to... Nothing's changed," he amends tersely. "Nothing's changed for either of us, Jaehwannie, and it's so good, you're so good, but it's like our lives are on hold—" He cuts himself off, his face falling into one hand as he sighs again. "I could spend the weekend here, and another week, but we'd be stuck right where we are."

Jaehwan feels, all at once, hopelessly out of his depth, envious of Wonshik's certainty when Jaehwan has only a mass of confused emotion. _Say something else_ , Wonshik asks without asking, and all of Jaehwan's fleeting connections don't hold a candle to Wonshik's quiet devastation. The tired cant of his hips as he tosses clothing into his duffel bag unfolded says to Jaehwan, _You could have more_. 

Wonshik hugs Jaehwan briefly on his way out, and his apartment has never felt emptier, the bustling city never more indifferent, than it does as he loses sight of Wonshik's back.

***

**(7)**

Jaehwan calls Hakyeon on the way to the airport. Hakyeon says soothing things and gives what advice he can, and Jaehwan cries, and when Jaehwan texts Wonshik a frantic, impulse-driven _which terminal are you at_ , Wonshik doesn't respond. He's already in the air. 

_Can we try_ , he types, and then deletes it, Hakyeon's carefully-measured words fresh in his mind. 

_"You can't let Wonshik shape himself to you. You have to fit with him, too."_ It feels, though, as if the gauntlet has been thrown. Wonshik has chased Jaehwan down across the East China Sea, presenting him with a double-edged ultimatum: _This is what we are, and this is what I've done_.

_What would you do for Wonshik,_ Jaehwan asks himself, piercing through the loneliness swelling in his chest. He's never been _lonely_ before. It's a surprisingly full feeling.

Jaehwan sighs, checks his performance schedule—a single day off, two weeks from today.

Two weeks, then. He has two weeks to find an answer.

**Author's Note:**

> please do leave me a comment~
> 
> i'm also available on [twitter](http://twitter.com/elysiyeon) and [tumblr](http://rapjoonhyung.tumblr.com)!


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